


Ships in the Night

by ZutaraBeliever



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: A little angst, Almost Kiss, Cute, Fluff, Heist, M/M, Mutual Pining, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 15:14:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18875755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZutaraBeliever/pseuds/ZutaraBeliever
Summary: At the Mayors Party, Arthur finds that a clumsy photographer may not be as naive as he thought.





	Ships in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 4!!!

Not a lot of things frightened Arthur. Not beasts, or getting shot, or the law. Would he rather avoid them at all costs? Yes. But did they strike fear into his heart, not at all. Especially not like this.

 

Here he was, some cowboy, stuffed inside an expensive suit, his hair cut, his face shaved, standing outside of one of the most lavishly rich parties he’d ever been to. It was a ball for christ sake! It didn't help his confidence that Dutch admitted to never having been to one either.

Arthur didn't like the city or it’s people. He liked freedom and the ability to do what you want when you wanted. But the thought kept coming to his mind that that time was coming to an end, that he and people like him were just being left behind. He had seen it when he first got to the city, going into one of the saloons and seeing all the eyes on him, like he was a freak show.

He hated Saint Denis but it was where they had to be for a while, so he just let it go. He’d had some good experiences around the city, maybe even a few in it.

 

But tonight he was as nervous as a rabbit in a cage.

 

He followed Dutch up to Angelo, listening the rich italian man go on and on about the other people at the party. He could see it was getting on Dutches nerves, how everything the man said was laced with condescension. Arthur had honestly drown it out, looking to the lights and night sky before a name caught his ear.

 

“Oh! Oh! And this one would be easy to steal from, the idiot photographer, Albert Mason.” Angelo chuckled, causing Arthur's head to snap toward him. He was subtle though as he glanced to where the man was pointing.

 

‘ _Well I’ll be damned_ ’ Arthur thought as he leaned against the balcony, the barest hint of a smile on his face.

 

He hadn’t seen Albert since he’d nearly fallen off a cliff. Arthur was honestly surprised he was still alive. Though, his mind was now grasping to Albert like a lifeline.

 

Albert had been one of the most kind souls he’d ever met, even of he was a bit naive, he was always thankful for Arthur, something no one had been in a long time. He was far from what Arthur would have considered a typical city man, yet here he was in a dapper suit talking to everyone like he was the cock of the walk.

Arthur had to admit, he looked handsome, better than Arthur felt in his monkey suit. The smile grew when he realized, unlike the other patrons in typical black suit black tie attire, Alberts suit gave off a faint green hue, as though it were made of forest velvet. His panama hat was gone, showing of his nearly black, wavy locks. Arthur now realized that,just like the man's beard, his hair had some curls in it. It had obviously been freshly cleaned, and his beard recently trimmed.

As Arthur watched him throw his head back in laughter at something the guest talking to him had said, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Lets go enjoy the party son.” Dutchs melodic voice told Arthur that he was done with Bronte in more ways than one. Arthur had been around the man long enough to tell when he did not like someone, and just how intense the dislike was. It didn't help that Dutch had been more on edge since the Pinkertons showed up, but Arthur couldn't fault him, everyone was more on edge since Blackwater.

 

Arthur glanced back to where Albert was and then followed Dutch out.

 

“Alright men. Lets go ingratiate ourselves.” Dutch smirked as Hosea and Bill flanked left to descend the stairs and join the crowd. Dutch looked to Arthur and then gestured to the stairs.

“Go on. Mingle. And don't steal anything, unless it’s information. “ Dutch stressed.

Arthur tried not to seem as though he were bolting to the only familiar face in the crowd as he nodded to Dutch and joined the party.

He looked around a bit, as if he didn't already know exactly where he was going and who he was talking to. The last thing he needed was Dutch, Hosea or Bill realizing he knew one of these city people, and exploiting Albert for their benefit.

And at that thought, Arthur stopped, his brain mare with confusion. That was what they did, it was what they always did. They were outlaws, thieves, criminals, not hired hands maybe, as Bronte had suggested, but they manipulated people all the time. Why did he care if Hosea used another clever ruse to get what he could from Albert.  Or if Dutch used his silver tongue to talk Albert out of house and home? He wouldn't let Bill near the photographer if he could help it.

He seemed frozen in his spot in the party, unable to walk forward with all the conflicting thoughts in his mind, but the main one right now was to go to Albert.

Arthur felt like an island in a sea of sharks, and the only other island in this ocean of decadence was Albert. He was a life raft.

Arthur had come into this party , this city even, feeling like he didn't belong. That he was a freak and these rich folks were all looking at him like a stray dog who’d wandered into a fancy restaurant looking for scraps. Arthur had never been bad at talking to people, some considered him a charmer, but  he did feel out of his element when you had to be gentile. He wasn't a gentile man, never really had been.

It was why he kept his journal a secret from everyone. He was the muscle in the gang, one of many. He was an attack dog at his base, or at least he thought he was.  He was sent to intimidate people. He was sent to the tougher robberies or fights. He was there for protection.

Like with Albert, Arthur had fallen into the protector role. He had just decided that this man needed it, and he had stayed.  But Albert never asked for it, like everyone else had. Mary had used him to scare people for as long as he had known her. Even when they were together, that was one of the purposes he had for her, protection, intimidation, scaring folks. He was a scary man, in his own respects, and she had used that to her advantage, even now after 10 years, she was still asking for help scaring folks.

But Albert had never asked for it. Hell, he barely asked for anything. Arthur was always the one offering.

“I’ll get ya bag, don’t worry.”

“I’ll stay and protect you as needed.”

“Why don't I run the horses for you?”

“Get in the boat. I’ll protect you.”

Arthur had always been the instigator, because he had been trained that that was all he was.  

 

So when he had to act gentle or uppity, or civilized,he panicked. Intimidating and roughing up came easy. Shooting came easy. But being a member of society, that had always come so hard.

He forged ahead from his spot, looking around before coming to Alberts little circle. He heard the photographer laugh and couldn't help his own smile.  He took a deep breath and tapped Alberts shoulder as he joined the circle.

He chuckled when Albert jumped, always so focused on the task at hand. He’d missed him more than he initially thought, memories flooding his minds eyes of the many times he had found the photographer in the wilderness.

Albert turned, blinking rapidly before he saw Arthur's face. His eyes met Arthurs and the smile that grew slowly made Arthus whole body melt.

“Surprised to see you here Mr. Mason.” He chuckled, his eyes never leaving Albert's own.

“Mr. Morgan.” Albert beamed turning to place his champagne glass on a nearby table before pulling Arthur in for a hug. Arthur hadn’t been a huger, ever really, but as he felt Albert squeeze, he lifted his arms to hug back. He was surprised that Alberts hands kept to the outlaws shoulders as they pulled apart a bit. “It is so wonderful to see you!” Albert said enthusiastically. “And in a suit!” He gestured, looking Arthur up and down.

 

Arthur suddenly felt self conscious again, a faint hint of red on his cheeks.

 

“Yea well, don’t get used to it, weren't my idea.” He chuckled. “But I gotta admit, you fit the look rather well.” Arthurs heart was racing and he couldn’t slow it down, he wasn't sure what was happening. He had an inclination, but he wasn't about to go down that road.

 

Albert chuckled and looked to himself. “Yes well, born and raised in a city makes you blend in easier.” he joked and turned back to his previous group. “Excuse me gentlemen.” He said and ushered Arthur away from them. Arthur glanced back.

 

“We don't gotta leave your friends.” he gestured to the guys behind them.

 

Albert shook his head. “Fortunately Mr. Morgan, they are not my friends.” he rolled his eyes. Arthur looked to Albert as they walked back up to the top of the stairs, everyone enjoying the party below and giving them some room. Albert turned Arthur back towards him and held him by the shoulders.

He looked him over then grinned. “I honestly believed I would never see you again Mr. Morgan.”

Arthur chuckled. “Me neither.” He scoffed. He looked around a bit and then looked back to Albert. “I...saw your gallery here in the city. Not too bad Mason.”

Albert looked as though he were glowing with pride as he clapped his hands together.

“How wonderful! I was hoping you would see it.”  Albert sighed, and something in Arthurs heart leapt. He was so happy to be out of the crowd.He may have passed look wise, but he wasn’t as sneaky or silver tongued as the others in the group, and Bill didn't give enough of a shit to care what others thought.

Arthur broke his gaze from Albert and looked around. ”Seems you’re movin up in the world.” He chuckled.

Albert sighed and looked around. “I suppose so, though I know I am merely here for a social call. The mayor seems determined to build the culture of Saint Denis and somehow my work qualifies.” he chuckled.

Arthur joined in as they leaned against the railing of the balcony. Albert shook his head a bit.

“But how in the world did you end up here? You don't seem like the kind of man who enjoys a garden party.”

Arthur let out a bit of a humorless chuckle. Of course Albert would see him the same as everyone else, a sore thumb, sticking out in a world he didn't belong in. He had probably pulled them away from his friends so Arthur wouldn't embarrass him.

“Got invited by an Angelo Bronte, came with a few other men. Asking around for information.” Arthur said, answering very stiltedly. “But you're right, I don’t exactly belong here.” He hid his face a bit. He supposed a part of him always wanted to belong in some respects. If he had, Maybe he’d have been married to Mary. Or maybe he wouldn't need Alberts kind smile to calm his nerves.

“I wouldn't say you don't belong here. “ Albert offered. “You do fill a suit very well.” He stood straight, gesturing for Arthur to do the same. He hesitantly stood as Alberts hands reached for his tie.

“It's a sensible fit at least, so many men don't get a proper fit. “ With Alberts hands on him, Arthur was losing concentration. He had already been walking on eggshells when he came in, now some sweet man was straightening his coat, and pressing against his chest, and Arthur's mind was screaming.

 

Run.

 

But then Albert smiled at him, and Arthur barely heard the words he said.

 

“There!”  Albert grinned. “Let's mingle shall we? “ He pulled Arthur to walk with him downstairs. “Now, what is it you want from these people?”

Arthur looked to Albert with wide eyes.

“It’s alright. You and your friends aren’t the only ones who come here with ulterior motives. “ Albert patted Arthurs shoulder. “It will just help us to come up with a story.”

“You do this a lot Mason?” The innocent man was talking like Hosea, and Arthur wasn't sure he liked it.

Albert looked to him with wide eyes. “Not really, but I've spent a lot of time around city people, I know how they think and how to get what you need from them. Many of them think they are smarter than they are. “ He chuckled. “Think of this as...My wilderness.” He said softly.

“It doesn't compare to beasts,but these people are predators in their own right.”

Arthur gave a lopsided smirk, chuckling a bit. He shook his head.

“Alright. Then what we want is any information that can get us money fast.” He said as they walked down the stairs beside each other. Arthur was leaning close to whisper, and noticed the red tint to Alberts cheeks and ears. He felt his own heat up as he spoke. “Banks, coaches, that sorta thing.”

Albert turned to Arthur with a small smirk. “Well then Mr.Morgan,” he stopped with Arthur  at the end of the stairs. “You are my wealthy brother in Law. You married my sister, Betsy Mason, and have recently come into wealth in the oil business.” Arthur rose an eyebrow and looked to Albert.

“You’re fulla surprises Mr.Mason.” he chuckled.

Albert chuckled with him as they walked.

“I suppose it was my turn to have surprises. “ He gestured to the left.

“That is the Mayor. He is a nice enough man, cares more about the arts than anything. And that over there is the head servant. Pompous fellow but fairly easy to read.” he smiled softly. “He's isn’t easily intimidated though,so if we want information from him we’ll need to be cunning.” Arthur smirked and the man's enthusiasm for their little mission.

“So I shouldn't talk then?” He said as they slowly made their way to a large group of men who were standing near the bottom entrance for the mansion. He’d done this enough times with Hosea to know he shouldn't say anything. He couldn’t count the number of times he played the ‘Brother or son turned idiot’.

Albert shook his head. “On the contrary, you are a very charming fellow.” Arthur's head turned to Albert at the words. Albert must have felt the gaze because he turned to Arthur, his eyes wide and innocent. “What?” he asked.

Arthur just cleared his throat and shook his head. “Let's just..do this.”he slowly went with Albert to join the group of men.

“Gentlemen, thank you for waiting.” Albert announced. The group welcomed him back like an old friend as Arthur stood there, trepidacious. “Allow me to introduce my brother in law, Arthur Morgan.” he smiled. Arthur gave his normal courteous smile and seemed to join the group without trouble. “Arthur has recently come into the oil business, and was hoping to get some tips.”

“Get out while ya can.” One of the men said as they all laughed. Arthur joined in a bit, feeling a little more comfortable with Albert beside him.

“But in all seriousness, welcome to the land of black gold my friend.” Another cheered, offering him a glass of champagne. He took it and sipped it.

“Well thank you sir. I am glad to be in the company of you fine fellows at last.” Albert was radiating pride as Arthur spoke. He patted the man's back a bit to signal his joy. Arthur sipped his champagne and looked to Albert then to the rest of them.

“Now, are we all in the oil business here or..?” Arthur asked.

“I am a coal man, got mines from here to Annesburg.” A portly man with a very large mustache said.

“I am in the dress business, many of the people in this city are wearing my garments.” a posh man said. Arthur chuckled.

“Thought about getting in to dresses. “ he shrugged. “But I just look better in a suit.” The group of men laughed, Albert nearly choking. He chuckled though and met Arthur's eyes, smiling.

“Don't let Wasp hear that,” the portly man stated. “Rumor has it he has a certain fetish for those things.” he smirked.

Arthur turned.”Well I’ll be...” he smirked.

“Rumor has he takes men to bed as well, But you didn't hear that from me.” another man said and chuckled, tapping the side of his nose.

“Wouldn't throw it past the fop.” The portly man boomed. “thought we left that behind with the wretched outlaws before us.”

“Cowfuckers the lot of them.” another said.

Albert watched Arthur tense, the cowboy sipping his champagne. Albert turned to the group, changing the subject.

“Speaking of oil, has Mr. Cornwall arrived?” Arthurs head turned to Albert, wide with fear and paranoia.

“Oh he isn’t comin. Seems to be feuding with the mayor.” the portly man gestured. “Wants to run oil through the red reservation. “

Albert nodded. “Oh dear. And tear up all that land? “ he said softly. .

“You have too big a soft spot for nature, Mr.Mason. It takes a pretty picture, but it's dangerous and feral. Better to let man take over, bring some civilization into the world, like Morgan here.”

Arthur rose and eyebrow, knuckles white and champagne forgotten.

“I bet you were some strung out hillbilly fighting in the streets for scraps, then ya got luck and found oil. Now you’ve joined society, and it’ll beat the hick nature from you yet, like a prized stallion.”

Arthur was biting the inside of his cheek, he knew he couldn't make a scene, they’d be spotted and they'd have to move the camp again. He couldn't do that to everyone, they'd just moved. So he took a deep breath and let it go, giving a small smile.

“Nearly hit the nail on the head sir.” Albert was staring at him, noticing the tension in the outlaws shoulder. “Saw men like you in the city and decided I’d rather have no soul and money, then live in the streets.” he was close to growling. “Now if you will excuse me gentlemen, a pleasure making your acquaintance.” he bowed to then and turned, heading back to Hosea  Dutch and Bill before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Mr.Morgan,”It was Alberts sweet and caring voice behind him. Arthur turned and there was a level of pity in Albert's eyes.

“I apologize for them, the men of the city are..vile.” Albert admitted as he let his hand leave Arthur's shoulder.

Arthur instantly felt horrible for making the photographer upset. He closed his eyes and sighed, shaking his head and scoffing.

“Its fine, beside they ain't all horrible.” he said. “You're a city man and you’re--” Friendly. Overly Compassionate. Handsome. He wanted to say it all, but couldn't. Instead he said, “Kind....”

Albert smiled softly, red dusting his cheeks. With his suit dark and his hair with a slight shine in the garden, it stood out and made his hazel eyes glow. Albert was happy to see the outlaws own faint red across his cheeks.

 

Albert had always been a man who loved men. He hid it of course, but New York hadn't been depleted in its supply of male whores or special clubs. He knew how the cities felt about sodomy and men loving men, which he supposed was a reason he came to the west.

Albert wanted some sort of family desperately. A house, a spouse and his art, that was all he would need for a happy life. And so far he had been lucky. Many towns in the west didn't care about his homosexuality. He saw men and woman together with the same gender in many of the small towns, then he’d come to Saint Denis and it reminded him too much of New York. Strict and controlling, stuff laws and stuffier people. Albert wasn't a law breaker, but he didn't exactly rat on those who committed crimes against rules that never made sense to him. Saint Denis even had a male brothel here and there, expensive, but it was obvious they made good money.

But recently his thoughts and focus had been on Arthur Morgan. He wasn't an obsessive or a stalker, but he did think about the man very much. His tanned skin, blue eyes and thick body. Even now in the night, it seemed if Arthur moved the wrong way the suit would burst at the seams. Seeing the man so tense and nervous had lit something in Albert. He cold help Arthur the way Arthur had helped him. The city was Alberts level of expertise just as the wilderness was Arthur's. And if he got in some shameless flirting, who would stop him? He had a few reasons to believe Arthur was just about as into it as he was, and rarely during their meetings had Albert been the confident one. Arthur always made Albert feel like a fool. He was smart, talented and quite witty. Albert mind flashed to the moments on the boat where they had all the time in the world to talk to each other, and how it had all been so easy. He wasn't sure if the man was as much of a hopeless romantic as Albert himself, but Albert could only invision Arthur when he thought of his fantasy of living somewhere with someone he loved.

 

“So.” Arthur spoke, “You know Cornwall?” Albert shrugged a bit at the mans nervous question

“Not personally, But I know of him. He seems like a horrible man.”

Arthur nodded, looking around. “Well he is, and if he sees me or my friends at this party we are all dead. “ Albert nodded and looked around.

“Those men weren't wrong, he is in a horrible feud with the mayor. Ah!”Albert gestured to the right where the mayor was speaking with his top butler. “Come.” he gestured and took Arthurs elbow.

Arthur tried ignoring the sensation the touch gave him as he was dragged to the far edge of the crowd,close enough to overhear the conversation.

 

“Sir, it’s Mr. Cornwall. He is on the phone to talk about the letter he sent you.” Peire, the head servant, said in haste as he got the mayors attention away from his guests.

Albert and Arthur faced each other in an attempt to seem as though they were just talking and enjoying the party instead of listening to the conversation continue.

“You know Mr.Morgan, If I may say it again, the suit fits you very well.” Albert said, glancing to the servant and Mayor as Arthur's face got a bit red.

“Thank you Mr. Mason, your suit fits you very well also.”He said and watch the blush creep to Alberts cheeks. It made him smirk a bit, seeing the effect he had on the man. Arthur hadn't ever really thought about his inclinations. He had loved Mary, and had a child with Eliza, but he wouldn't lie, he’d found his fair share of men in bed as well. No one cared much in camp, he had the same rules as anyone:

Don’t bring an outsider back to camp

If you do fuck in camp. Don’t be loud.

And that was it, no one batted an eye when he walked into a male brothel in Valentine, And then a female one in Strawberry. But after hearing what those city man had said, about just a rumor of homosexuality and intentions, he knew that time was coming to an end too. He swallowed and looked to Albert.

Albert had grown into a lot of things from Arthur, and they were all coming to a head tonight at their chance meeting. Albert was kind, he was soft , caring and passionate. He never called Arthur an idiot, or believed the outlaw was anything but a gentleman.

‘ _How wrong he is_.’ Arthur thought. He had his suspicions about Albert, that he was a man with a preference for men, and certain things tonight were solidifying it. But Arthurs doubtful mind kept telling him he had rose tinted glasses on, hoping because he was desperate for someone.

“And I myself enjoy a good beard, but clean shaven is a very handsome look for you.” Albert sipped his champagne and smirked a bit into the glass as Arthur's eyes went from wide to knowing. He couldn't have been making this up. There was only a few ways to know so he pressed on.

Arthur grabbed his own little glass of champagne and smirked, an eye and ear still on the Cornwall conversation, but his focus on Albert.

“Well I’ve had a few requests to keep it, the beard that is” he sipped. “Many people say they like the feeling, but it is a bitch to maintain, especially when all the activity they want it for requires a bed.”

Arthur chuckled as he watched Alberts face heat to an unimaginable shade of red.

Albert swallowed, heart pounding. He hadn't flirted this openly for a long time, and Arthur was hamming it up pretty well. The photographer composed himself and spoke.

“Oh I understand completely, my own beard is highly requested for one of my more talented activities.” He said and glanced again to the mayor.

“Misure Cornwall is a horses ass. I will attend to him the letter sent later. Now please, put it in my office and let me enjoy the party?” The mayor's tone was one of annoyance and restraint, a heavy sigh leaving him on his last words.

Albert looked to Arthur with a bit or surprise. They focused back on their conversation as the head servant walked back to the house. They meandered through the crowd until they were both pressed against the wall leading to the main entrance of the Mayors ornate home.

“We gotta find out where he’s puttin that paper.”Arthur whispered, crouching a bit. He watched the servant head upstairs. He had seen a locked door on their way in, and wondered if that was where he was going. Albert hmmmed and leaned over Arthur, his body pressing to the cowboys back a bit.

“I have an idea. But I need a better vantage point.” He whispered.

Arthur had barely heard him. He was trying not to point out that Albert now had a hand on his shoulder and was leaning directly over  him. He was also trying not to lose focus on how good it felt to have the photographers body pressed to his. Arthur had always had broad shoulders, and fora 6 foot man, he was pretty thick, so feeling the smaller man pressed to him lit something in the pit of Arthur stomach.

 

Arthurs breath hitched when Albert squeezed his shoulder, the photographers grasp was tight, but his hands were soft, and small compared to Arthurs.

“What’re--You doin?” Arthur whispered as Albert backed off and leaned against the wall. Arthur tried not to let the disappointment show on his face. It was soon replaced with a look of terror as Albert waltzed into the large main floor room.

“Hello, is anyone here? I am afraid I am in need of assistance.”  Albert said, feigning innocence. If Arthur learned one thing tonight, it was that Albert was a good actor. He heard the servant close the door, but not lock it.

“Sir the party is outside. “ The tone was stern. Arthur could only hear the conversation as he hid and planned his way to the door.

“Oh I know, and I am dreadfully sorry, but I'm looking for a washroom.” Alberts voice was so fake, Arthur could tell how wholesome he must have looked.

“Please wait outside sir.” Another stern retort left the servant, getting agitated as Albert continued talking in the saddest voice Arthur had ever heard.

“I apologize for intruding, but those men at the party, the ones obviously pretending to be members of society?” Arthur rose an eyebrow, trying to think who Albert was talking about. “The...cowboys.” Alberts voice was laced with disgust. Arthur was nearly convinced of Alberts tone and feelings until he saw Albert glance back and smirk a bit.

“Mr. Brontes guests? Are they being a nuisance sir?” The servants tone did a total 180, his frustration now aimed at the group in question.

Albert shook his head. “No, not yet at least, though I don't know how long their cheap suits can hold their outlaw ways in.” He held out his hand. “I am afraid one of them touched me, and I don't trust that they bathe on a regular basis. I am also a bit of a germaphobe, so if you could show me to the washroom I would greatly appreciate it.”

Arthur heard the servant agree and as they’re footsteps left the main floor, he bolted inside, sneaking up the elegant stairs as he saw Albert and the servant turn around a corner.

The floor plan was very open, and Arthur knew he had to be quiet or he’d be seen for sure. Slowly, he made his way up the stairs, freezing when he heard the pairs voices. “I do apologize sir, It was Mr. Brontes idea to invite them, .”

“It’s quite alright, I suppose one must appeal to the common folk.” Albert was laying it on thick, and Arthur rolled his eyes. But the servant just seemed to agree.

“I believe you are right sir.” Arthur made his way to the door and slipped in, having to open it a bit to make it wide enough for his body.

Once he was in, he looked around. There was a single light in the room, illuminating a desk.

“Maybe I should run for office..”Arthur mumbled as he looked at the ornate office space inside this lavish mansion. He never wanted to be in this place, not really. The civilized world just came with a bunch of rules and forced guidelines everyone had to adhere to. He hated it more than the O'Driscolls.

He scavenged around the office, seeing if there was anything of value that wouldn't be missed. He may have been on a mission, but the groups mission was to get out and away from this place, so a few extra bucks couldn’t hurt.

Soon his eyes were on the paper for Cornwall.

“Dear Mayor….” he began reading. His eyes scanned the page and realized what was in his hand could have been a gold mine to the group.

Arthur smirked, glancing near the door before folding the paper up and putting it in his front breast pocket.

“I do say the acoustics in here are quite marvelous,” Arthur heard Alberts voice and took that as the signal to get out. He glanced through the door and saw the servants back to him and beside the stairs, Albert talking him up. Arthur bent down and slowly made his way down the stairs. For a big man he could be very quiet. Albert spared a small glance to Arthur as he rambled to the servant.

“Thank you once again for your help. I don't mean to be rude, but why the Mayor allowed them in is beyond me.”

The servant nodded “I couldn't agree more sir. They are street trash at best.” It was obvious Albert had him in the palm of his hand.

Arthur snuck back into the courtyard and ran toe empty space beside the main floor.

“Ah yes thank you very much.” Albert bowed and smiled to the servant.

“Not a problem sir, please enjoy the party. And if those men give you anymore trouble, I will happily escort them out.”

Albert nodded, still playing the part. “Thank you sir.” He said before turning toward the courtyard. It was abandoned, coming off the house in a blind spot between the front and back. Alberts heart was racing as he saw the cowboy make his way in through the opposite direction.  

They made eye contact and moved toward each other, ending up a little too close.

“Did you get it?” Albert whispered, his hand on Arthurs shoulder. Arthur patted the left breast of his coat, his large hand hitting his broad chest in a satisfying thunk.

“Got it right here.”He grinned and met Alberts eyes. “You did good Mason. You sure you ain’t done this before?”

Albert chuckled. “Not since primary school, and even then, we were just stealing cookies. “ He laughed a bit, patting his stomach, “Though my waistline will never forgive me.”

Arthur knew the man carried a little extra on his stomach, but it didn't matter. If anything, it just made him wonder if the rest of Alberts body was just as soft.

“Yours ain't the only one.” he chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “At least you could lose yours, Seems I'm stuck with mine. “ He joked. Arthur had always been a big man, muscle, sure, but a layer of softness over it. The closest he came to losing that was when they were in the mountains starving to death.

Albert looked offended. “Nonsense! You are rugged  and strong, I’m just...an out of shape city man.” He chuckled.

Arthur rose an eyebrow. “Yea, and according to your little ruse there, I’m a filthy cowboy in a cheap suit that doesn’t have the right to touch your hand.” He grinned mischievously as a blush rose from Alberts neck to his cheeks. He sputtered a bit before focusing with a small smile.

“You know that was just a lie, Mr. Morgan! You are not filthy!” He said.

“But I am a cowboy in a cheap suit?” Arthur loved this game.

Albert rolled his eyes. “You are not! You are handsome and talented and--” Albert reached forward and grasped Arthur's hand, tight and firm in his own soft, uncalloused one. “You may hold my hand anytime...you wish..”

Half way through the declaration, it was as if Albert's mind had caught up with his mouth. He swallowed and blinked rapidly as he looked at their hands. Arthur was watching with curiosity, if whether Albert regretted what he had done, or had just realized their flirting had gone a bit farther than  just making each other red.

As his hazel eyes met Arthurs, the photographer didn't let go of his hand. He squeezed instead.

“I--.” Albert used his other hand to scratch the back of his neck. “I...wasn't aware your hands were so...large.” He chuckled, eyes closing with his smile.

Arthur couldn't stop staring, turning his eyes form the blushing photographer to their hands.

“You uh…..You’re hands are...a lot softer than I thought..” Arthur's thumb absently ran over Alberts knuckles. He wished he had his hat, it would hide his face.

“Years of….luxury.” Albert continued. “Not like yours, rough with labor and living out in the world. They’re----”

“Yea but ….they’re too big for most things, yours are..perfect”

They said the last word at the same time, meeting each other's gaze, a shared look of wanting passed between them. It was accompanied by an unspoken hope.

To Arthur, he dreamed of just taking Albert and running away. Away from the city and this mess and these people. Away from the camp so they could live somewhere where no Pinkerton or O'Driscoll would ever find them.

Alberts mind flashed to a home somewhere in the wild, sipping coffee as they looked over a field where wild deer and horses roamed. He would take photos and Arthur would draw, it would be paradise.

Those thoughts pushed the men forward, until they were too close to be doing anything but moving to kiss.

They both nearly went for it, both men leaning in, far enough away from the crowd not to worry, but mere inches from each other. Then there was loud a boom. And another, and another, and both men sprang back before contact could be made. They turned their attention toward the noise and saw the sky light up with fireworks.

Albert watched, amused as he moved to stand near the edge of the courtyard.

“Fireworks..” Albert smiled as he turned back to Arthur. The cowboy couldn't help his small expression of admiration. Albert just made everything seem so new and beautiful. Arthur stood beside him and looked up to the sky.

“They are gorgeous.” he said as Albert watched him.

“Yes they are..”Albert smiled, obviously speaking of Arthur as he turned back to the sky. Arthur didn't look down, slowly moving his hand to hold Alberts again, squeezing it in acknowledgement.

Albert glanced down, smiling softly as he squeezed back.

 

“Arthur my boy!” Dutchs booming voice carried over the crowd and the fireworks to Arthurs ear. His head snapped toward it and he slowly let go of Alberts hand, praying Dutch hadn’t seen. He, Hosea and Bill were coming to Arthur, and it was easy to see they were frustrated.

Albert shrunk back a bit as Dutch patted Arthurs shoulder.

“We are leaving Arthur.” Dutch smiled but he was angry, Arthur had seen it before. He leaned in, whispering. “You get anything good?”

 

Arthur nodded and patted his breast pocket. “Think so.” he sighed a bit.

“Good Arthur.” Hosea said as he and Bill turned away. Dutch nodded and was about to pull Arthur with them when the man hesitated.

He turned back to Albert, who stepped forward. “Mr. Morgan?” Albert spoke up, causing the whole posse to stop. Albert was standing in front of Arthur, his hands clasped over one of Arthurs, with every muscle in him telling him not to let the man go.

“Thank you, for a very delightful evening.” He smiled softly, though the sadness behind it was palpable.

Arthur felt it too, his heart lurching forward to the man in front of him. He placed his free hand on Alberts.

“Pleasure was mine Mr. Mason.” Arthur tried his best at a smile, something to remember him by. He knew, deep down, that he would never see the man again, that this was his one chance to run, and like everything else, he had blown it.

Albert seemed to sympathize as he squeezed Arthur's hand and reluctantly let go. Arthur walked back toward the other men, watching Albert as he moved.

“If you are ever in New York..” Albert called. “You’ll know where to find me.” He chuckled, sounding a bit desperate.

“In the jaws of some hungry beast?” Arthur joked.

Albert  chuckled, “Or taking photos of some stuffy city man.”

Arthur nodded toward Albert in a final goodbye as the group got into their stagecoach, riding off into the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! I just was replaying my game and thought about what the party at Brontes would have been like had a certain photographer shown up!
> 
> (I love his pair so much)


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